Strange Attractors (15 page)

Again she concentrated on what was next so she didn’t have to think about what she had left in the ground. Straightening her spine, she watched another carriage approach. Rall would be here any moment and maybe they would take that very coach to the crossway, slipping out in the dark to find the portal.

A crack of thunder sounded on the horizon and she tipped her head to the stars, expecting to see a rush of clouds closing in. The sky was clear but the thunder sounded again. Alarms rose in the distance, the clang of bells coming from the city. Shaea climbed to the top of a stone hedge and stared towards the centre of Corsanon. A red glow flickered about the main citadel, plumes of smoke rising towards the moon. ‘Fire!’ she said, the word escaping her lips before she could stop it.

Others came out of the temple, gathering on the hedge and straining to see into the distance. The music stopped and voices clamoured in the background. Suddenly her quiet corner sanctuary was filled with people, everyone pushing to glimpse the city that was now orange as sunrise. Their voices were shrill, near panic, and still Rall did not come. Shaea edged further away from the crowd, following a path beyond the hitching rails and coaches where teams of dappled horses with purple-plumed headstalls pranced on the spot, fidgeting in their traces while coachmen tried to settle them. Under the shadow of a tall oak, she
caught her breath, leaning against the white-skinned bark. From there she kept one eye on the entrance, and the other on the road to the portal. She wanted to run, but didn’t know which way to go. What could be keeping Rall?

‘Are you waiting for someone?’

The voice startled her. She’d let her guard drop, distracted by the people and the sound of alarms. She hadn’t heard a footfall, even on this gravel path. She turned to the stranger, pulling her cloak snugly around her shoulders, and gave a little nod. ‘My mentor’s coming any moment, but thank you for asking.’

She did her best to keep her voice smooth and rich, avoiding the garbled drawl that would mark her as a street beggar. Rall had made her practise, from time to time. She’d said it would be useful though Shaea never understood how. Now she did.

‘May I keep you company, to help pass the time?’

She nodded again. It was easier than talking.

‘There seems to be trouble in Corsanon tonight,’ he said.

‘Indeed.’ She looked at him sideways. Why was he speaking the obvious? Of course there was trouble in Corsanon tonight. The whole place was going up in flames. ‘Big trouble.’ Shaea gave a small smile, hiding her chipped tooth behind her hand. When he smiled back, she realised he was really only a lad, not much older than herself, she guessed, and only a little taller. She had nothing to fear from him. Their conversation would lead nowhere, even if the excitement died down and the festivities resumed. Nothing was expected of her tonight. She knew how it worked. Rall’d told her often enough.

Young men who came to the temple were only initiated by High Priestesses. He would no doubt
assume she was an apprentice herself—training in the arts of tantra and ritual magic under the guidance of a mentor. Apprentices and initiates were not encouraged to experiment with each other, not until their training was more advanced. She was glad. She’d never fumbled about with anyone and the proximity of this young man disturbed her. She wouldn’t have known what to do.

Rall! Where are you?
She pushed back her hood. ‘Your company is welcome, thank you.’

Rall had told her to act as if she were the High Priestess of Temple Corsanon and she was doing her best to oblige, though the High Priestess would not likely have time to converse with a youth in the moonlight, under the shade of the white oaks—even with such a beautiful young man as this. He had strange eyes, oval, mystical, entreating. She was lost in their darkness until she saw the glow of the fires mirrored there. She straightened.

‘My name is Teg,’ he said, his voice cutting through her thoughts. ‘What may I call you?’

‘Shaea,’ she said, not having given thought to an alternative. Surely she didn’t need one. It wasn’t like she would ever be recognised from her past. No one would think she was the filthy street urchin too revolting to hold the eye for more than an instant. No one had ever marked her passing. She frowned. ‘Why are you staring at me, Teg?’

‘Oh, was I? Forgive me. You’re so lovely. I had to drink it in.’

Shaea smiled brightly before blushing, her hand coming up again to her mouth. She had to get away from this person. He was upsetting her inside and out.
Rall!

Shaea! It’s gone bad. Get out, girl! Run!

Shaea startled; she looked left and right before she realised it was Rall’s voice in her head that had spoken. When her eyes returned to Teg, she could see that he had heard it too. How was that possible?

‘Your mentor?’ he asked, reaching out his hand to steady her.

Shaea pulled away, hiked up her skirts and fled.

Heat wafted into the portal. It was like standing in front of a bakery oven, warming Grayson’s face, melting icicles from hem and cuffs. He took off his coat and strapped it to his pack. The view looked peaceful—no sign or scent of battle. ‘Where in Gaela is this?’ The sunny sky and green foliage made him smile and he stepped out of the portal and into the world.

The land sloped towards a valley, undeveloped save for a large building overgrown with ropey vines. It stood at the edge of a wide green field, flat as a lake. The sun was hot and the air smelled like warm honey. It reminded him of the hills surrounding the Gulf of Tasisia only there was no sea breeze. Whip birds fluttered in the low branches, cutting the air with their whistle-snap-crack calls. Brightly coloured lorikeets chattered and shrieked, taking flight when he turned towards them. All this luxuriance of nature meant it was clearly not Earth, but neither was it like any place on Gaela he’d ever been, and Rosette had taken him almost everywhere. The old corrugated building, a warehouse or hangar, was certainly not Gaelean. Where could he be?

The horizon was blue, turning mauve near the mountain peaks behind him. What range was it? The north side of the Prietas? Oldosia? Surely not with this sticky climate. It was too moist here, too tropical—like Rahana Iti only there were no mountains there. He
studied the trees next to the portal, two tall cypresses warped by the wind, a stand of ironbarks and beyond them groves of bananas and papaya. Convinced he would recognise this entrance from any direction, he headed towards the valley.

He knew the building would be abandoned. There was no path leading to it and the grass grew thick right up the walls. Grayson pulled the corrugated door open, scraping dirt back with it. Inside was a vast open space with a set of double doors at the far end. There were several high windows; the glass was broken, but little breeze came through. The rafters were lined with bats, an entire colony hanging like bits of charred meat from a grill. The stench made him screw up his face. ‘Sorry to disturb,’ he said, though the occupants didn’t make a sound to complain or reply.

He checked the other side of the building, finding a tyre pump and an empty tool box but nothing else. A sign hung at a slant, the large painted letters weathered and chipped. He walked around to stand square in front of it, and read the words: ‘Flight Centre.’ He swatted his neck, flattening a tiny mosquito against his skin, his fingertips coming back with a drop of blood. ‘Definitely not Gaela.’

A road led out of the valley, overgrown in a tangle of vegetation. He followed it, trusting the Entity had sent him exactly where he needed to go. It was a risk, he knew. The Entity may or may not have his best intentions in mind. He had been cautioned not to travel the corridors alone under any circumstances even with his coded DNA. They hadn’t solved the puzzle of the shifting destinations. He was meant to stay in Dumarka until Kreshkali, or Nell, or Rosette for that matter, returned.

He’d become restless. Travelling the corridors was
better than sitting out the winter in Dumarka. His intuition told him Rosette needed help and he listened to that voice. He took action. ‘Lead on, old road,’ he said, shooing the flies. ‘Show me what I’ve come here to see.’

Behind him a gust of wind blew the sign and it rocked on its old hinges. He turned around and caught a glimpse of eyes watching from deep in the foliage. They were following his progress down the track. He prickled, straining to catch them again, but they were gone.
Did I imagine it?
They didn’t look human.

Rosette charged up the stairs on the temple cats’ heels. Stealth was no longer required or even wise. They’d been found out and speed would be the only chance of escape. They were near the top of the tower. Bells were clanging below and the heat of the fire warmed the stones, smoke choking the air. An’ Lawrence had his sword drawn and they were both cutting down the sentries, blazing the trail to the highest room. When they reached it, Rosette blasted the door with a single thought. There was no time for hesitation or intricate conjuring. They still had to get out and though she could morph and fly away, the others could not. The only way to safety was back down those stairs, littered with corpses and slick with blood.

‘A little warning would have been nice,’ An’ Lawrence said, brushing splinters off his cloak.

‘No time.’ She whisked into the room and scanned it top to bottom, sword in the guard position. What she saw stopped her in her tracks. ‘Which one’s Makee?’ she asked, staring at the iron cages.

An’ Lawrence came to a halt next to his daughter and rubbed his neck. The captive ravens were identical.

‘Drayco?’

Rosette’s familiar stepped forward, extending his nose towards the nearest cage.
They smell the same, Maudi. Curious.

‘What does Scylla say?’ Rosette asked, turning to An’ Lawrence.

He chuckled, the sound grating. ‘She suggests we take a punt.’

‘A punt?’

‘A guess.’

‘I know what the word means.’ She raised her sword. She didn’t know what would happen if they released the wrong witch. Who could the other be? No one trapped a Lemur raven on a whim. ‘She’s your priestess, Sword Master. You choose.’

An’ Lawrence flicked blood from his sword and sheathed it. He hesitated over one cage before turning to the other and unlatching the door. The raven pushed through the small opening, beating her wings with powerful downstrokes. As she morphed, a blast of energy warped the room, knocking Rosette to her knees. She leapt back up, sword high overhead, Drayco bristling at her side.

The witch in front of her was laughing, her black ringlets shaking as her head bobbed. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Though I thought you’d be quicker.’

Before Rosette could respond, the woman released the other raven, morphed again, and the two black birds flew out of the tower window.

Rosette stared at her father. ‘Who was that?’ she asked, sheathing her sword.

He shrugged. ‘An enemy of Corsanon?’

‘Before the wars?’

‘Interesting, isn’t it? Like watching history.’

‘Like changing it, more likely. What now?’

I suggest you find your way down from that tower,
lovely. Company’s coming and I think there are too many for even you and An’ Lawrence to entertain.

Rosette’s eyes flashed. She recognised the voice in her head. ‘Makee!’ She said the name like a war cry. ‘What have you done?’

‘Let’s go.’ An’ Lawrence grabbed her arm and spun her around.

‘But did you hear that?’

‘I did. Out of here, now!’

Rosette gave Drayco’s neck a squeeze and ran back down the stairs. By the next landing she had her sword high over her head, ready to cut through the advancing guards, but she hung back. Drayco and Scylla cleared the path, leaving the tower guards face down on the steps.

‘Thank you, Dray.’

The window, Maudi. You can fly out of here.

‘I’m not leaving you,’ she said over the sound of marching feet.

‘We may not be leaving at all,’ An’ Lawrence answered. ‘There’s too many.’

She looked at the Sword Master; his bare feet were stained with blood and his limp was worsening.

‘Then we disappear,’ she said, sheathing her sword. She waved them in close, looping her arm around An’ Lawrence, the temple cats on either side. ‘Slow your breathing, all of you. I can’t pull this off with you puffing and grunting.’

Rosette drew the energy of the Elementals to her, conjuring a glamour to blend them into the stone and brick walls. As long as the guards weren’t marching four abreast, they would pass them by unseen, untouched. The tap of boots on the steps echoed and a moment later the warriors appeared, rounding the corner, climbing fast. They weren’t four abreast. They were five.

So much for disappearing
, An’ Lawrence said, sending the message straight to her head.

He made to draw his sword and step out of the glamour but she stopped him.

Wait.

For what? They’re going to plough straight into us.

I don’t think so.

Physics, Maudi
, Drayco said, his tail lashing at her side.
This is a one-plus-one-equals-too-many scenario. We have to fight.

Rosette held her breath. The tower guards were a hand’s length from her now. She went for her sword but a voice stopped her, screaming in her head.

Hold! I’ve got you covered.

Rosette warned the others.
Wait. Help comes.

What help?
An’ Lawrence asked, but he didn’t budge.

In the narrow tower window a Lemur raven landed, cawing at the guards and flapping her wings.

‘There she is!’ the one closest to her yelled. He broke formation and the others followed, missing the glamour and lunging towards the bird. ‘Grab her.’

Rosette didn’t wait to see if they did. She doubted Makee would let herself be caught again, if that had indeed been La Makee. Whichever bird, it had given them just enough distraction for a dash down the steps while the guards’ backs were turned.

She kept the glamour around them until they neared the bottom step.
Death dogs, Drayco? Please? One more time?